Long Betsy ross Poems
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Piecing together Harris/ Kuritsky tattered family tree
(Betsy Ross would beam at unflagging effort)
Ah, here all along yours truly
thought himself an abductee,
and/or zoologically
linkedin with chimpanzee,
hence imagine my disappointment
flipping laminated pages ye
ja undertook undoubtedly
painstaking effort,
plus wireless subcommittee
stitched together plain to see
helpful input thank you Amelie,
plus unnamed, undaunted,
and informed cousins
contributing to digging
into archives to help free
some unanswered nagging questions
only to generate others re:
garding ahem little feet
legs skinny as spaghetti
this haint no phallus si¿
lodged within me
noggin, which effort crudely
analogous fitting
prosthetic to amputee,
who understandably loosing limb,
would find her/him
screaming like banshee,
which one with diminished hearing
might sound like
suite (sweet) firebird stung
explaining flight of bumblebee
nonetheless, the bundled, compiled,
and detailed genealogy
courtesy eldest sister prithee
perhaps inspire "FAKE"
trumpeted voluminous tome twee
starring pooch donning
windblown heir spade fur -
or sporting canine toupee
with apt title regarding petsmart
bonafide muttering dog gone pedigree
hump backed es
in heat making whoopie
would become best selling fiction,
whereby Hollywood
might come calling
of course anonymous
actors/actresses,
or training one or another Arctic monkey,
where production costs
totally tubular less money
versus famous Homo
thespians portraying
long gone i.e. bissell mishuga
characterizing deceased exhumed
(figuratively) ghosts
might be (like...y'know...really) eerie
yet, a possible windfall
after signed contract
once all parties privy
to dramatize ancestors
unilaterally abide and agree
this unsolicited barkback feedback
countless many shindigs
witnessed predictable
yours truly absentee
soul (and sole) brother pulling
no shows claiming lame excuse
ah betcha I inherited emotional uncoupling
generations ago dirt poor peon,
perhaps unwitting creator
of peanut butter and jelly.
There is something in the air
Reflecting on freedom’s one day scare
Signing a declaration we want to be on our own
Handful self-proclaimed leaders setting a tone
It was John Hancock first holding the pen
Scripted it so large ‘an idea that needed to defend’
Thirteen colonies united together
In writing the royal a letter
Through the next few years
Muskets firing heard by many ears
A revolution between tea and beers
Bells would ring
Celebrating separation from the King
Redcoat’s egos taken down
By battling farmers who knew the ground
It was all a ‘pride show’
For the stiff upper lip British you know
Better thinking said ‘let the new world grow’
Today we are in a bind
An invisible army giving the globe a hard time
Take this as an opportunity knocking
Tell Betsy Ross in her chair 'keep on rocking'
Striped bars
States as stars
In a field colored blue
An artistic message waving cool
Some of us do not agree
And the results make us stronger you will see
No one can control all fifty
Not even a virus that is shifty
Wear a mask or don’t
It’s your vote
Since in the end
You will know where to send
A message challenging the Franklin in Ben
“How much does this cost?”
“Is our boss reality at a loss?”
“Is a square cubicle your life?
Or is the husband maybe a wife”
Writing is a powerful art
Peaceful at its original start
If a reader walks away
Getting more knowledge today
This contribution would be good
Educating society as it should
Take these thoughts I do scribe
On your holiday ride
Ponder my rhymes
Circulating the economy friendly governmental dime
Enriching America’s creative independent mind
Rippled and flowing in the air
Laying all Her true colors to bare
A symbol to all, in this the land of the free
Having a very special part inside of me
From the days of Betsy Ross
So many times draped over such a somber loss
There in the morning and all day long
Reminding us to be proud for we are the strong
And as we place our hands over our hearts
Just one vision from so many parts
Giving Old Glory Her due
As She guides us through so much that is new
So as the crowd breaks out into cheer
It’s Old Glory that I am still holding dear
Holding back the tear in my eye
As She stands all alone against the crisp blue sky
The flag that Betsy Ross did sew
So very many years ago
Had 13 stars for 13 states,
A flag that someone famous hates.
It represents a time, he said,
When hatred reared its ugly head,
For slavery was underway
Within the nascent U.S.A.
When Nike put it on a shoe,
Believing that was cool to do,
Objections stopped them in their tracks
And they caved in to tweet attacks.
The sneaker won't be up for sale
For Nike thought it wise to bail
As history keeps marching toward
A place where truth can be ignored.
The irony of Nike's loss
Of course resides with Betsy Ross
For no one's proven for a fact
That Betsy sewed the flag they sacked.
This beautiful flag
has stood the the test of hard times,
this beautiful flag
waves with a grand elegant over vallies,
love it as your own mother, her embrace
is warmer that spring days!
Her wolves howl in the battering wind
to make themselves heard,
their energy is surely wasted;
true patriots fight for their country:
no voice is louder than liberty!
This beautiful flag was draped
by Betsy Ross, the patriotess,
her devotion was expressed eloquently;
her noble spirit is carved in history.
This beautiful flag is the pride
of every American and the ones
who yearn for a life of liberty!
Do you stand with those traitors,
or react to their madness?
Who swears allegiance to only one flag
is a son and daughter of this great land,
but that one who has no love
for America and its beauty
is far from a gentle dove;
he can never brag
about its glory
and appreciate its generosity
to exchange it for total loyalty!
Its the price soldiers pay
in a time of win and lose,
when an escape is not easy to choose;
stand with them and pray;
help them raise this beautiful flag!
THE DRILL
Arrive with boots. The march early or late.
The rose-fed cheeks. The eyes are green - new leaves.
The cadence call. No turning back. Blank slate.
New beginnings. In adventures, believes.
On the clothesline, strung together, the bras.
In the barracks, she-decorations hang.
The flag flies high. Painting of Betsy Ross.
Put together - this puzzle’s unlikely gang.
The coins bouncing. We ban undoing beds.
The quickest wash. The reveille’s real.
Back to the grind. Rote march from the beachheads.
Us she-sailors, we salute-shine…we heel.
We learn the drill - this camp is not playing.
We’re uniform - there’s no place for straying.
5/26/2023
Written: June 23, 2025, for contest Sponsored by: Anthony Biaanco
*******************
Growling, arguing, cursing, and screams,
They nod to chase after a dollar, a dream.
Trapped in clichés, similar to urban swine,
Lost residents of the suburbs stand in line.
The city of brotherhood and sisterhood,
Racially diverse cultures and schools stood.
Philly cheese-steaks, hoagies, and homicides,
Cocaine vampires succumb side by side.
On filthy streets, zombies and dogs coexist,
In Fishtown, hunt for meat to eat or a twist.
They need medicine and shoes for their feet.
Litter chokes Kensington Ave replete street.
They say Oxy and fentanyl are to blame.
Perhaps it's genetics, wrapped in shame.
Predisposed to a life completely polluted—
From the moment of birth, deeply rooted.
Some were once rich, now penniless,
With only a rat and their mute distress.
A raw middle-class suburbia faces bruise,
Zombies cradle meth and crack misuse.
They nod, dip, freeze, and sway—
Defying gravity, they struggle to stay.
Despite its fame, the land has failed,
A monolithic trial, where hopes derailed?
Former star-spangled grandeur has faded.
Betsy Ross famed flag thread is jaded.
A horrible scene for a tourist to behold,
A ghostly flat-backed female zombie, cold.
Kensington Ave in the city's northeast—
Zombies, dogs, and lost souls feast.
Two-legged canines in an endless sludge.
Life is grim in this dope-fueled grudge.
Tanks
"Da Tanks, da Tanks."
The President is not Chairman Mao.
Come on now!
Gads, what an ungrateful nation!
Perhaps haughty Don Lemon or
that court jester, Jim Acosta,
Two snobby nobodies behind
a mike, turning brains to mush
every night,
Could please each American
just right?
Go online tomorrow, you will
find how many presidents used
tanks and fly-overs.
The list is long, we are not
Tianimin Square!
But CNN and MSNBC, masters
of disinformation,
Make you think so!
Truth to them is totally cracked
and libelous information.
Such elitism, and political bigotry!
With utmost conceit will not cover
the DC events.
But! Will have proponents of
abortion on most happily.
Killing babies is OK, don't you see?
JFK, oh, so revered, had tanks
too!
And Fly Overs are happening,
even at football and baseball games.
And many civic events, yes!
So stop the hysteria over this
bizarre craziness.
Our country, our values are
being shredded.
Like the cheapest Wal-Mart
lettuce.
Wake the heck up!
Obama had more than enough sense
to have TWO Betsy Ross flags
behind him at BOTH of his
inaugurations.
Nobody said a word. Huh?
MSNBC, you all,just compared
the Betsy Ross flag to a
Swastika?
Oh, Lord, the total number of brains
there?
The size of a small brassica!
*Brassica~ a mustard plant
July 4, 2019
Ya..Let Freedom Ring
I am the University of Yale
Opens its door.
I am the beginning of the
Revolutionary War.
I am one of the 13
Colonies.
I am the Sons of Liberty
Ideologies.
I am the Pilgrams at Plymouth
Rock.
I am the Boston Tea Party thrown
Off the dock.
I am the day the Navy was
Created.
I am Paul Revere the midnight
Ride awaited.
I am Ben Franklin and
Nathan Hale.
I am the Declaration of
Independence in detail.
I am the Bill of Rights and
Betsy Ross.
I am George Washington he
Is the boss.
I am the making of the U.S.
Marines.
I am a patriot breaking away
From the Queen.
I am the Bunker Hill
Battle.
I am Benedict Arnold and
His psychobabble.
I am Samuel Adams and
Thomas Payne.
I am the Boston massacre
Independence gained.
I am the colonial era and
The Sugar Act.
I am the Pilgrams and natives
Made a pact.
TURBO1904
Really? Where?
I still see them as fearful as fifty years ago.
To state any concerns about especially politics, and so.
Those fifty years ago when we wore little white gloves.
And batted our eyelashes like turtedoves.
And dared not utter a political thought....
For from my our husbands, our security was bought.
We have freedom now to slaughter our unborn at clinics.
We can wear pants and jeans and dress like men~
Pretending there is something chic in it?
Who are we just Betsy Ross?
Just to sew flags, keep our mouths shut and sit on garden moss!
What woman here will openly oppose abortion? (One, me)
That or you'd have to pay her much or face poetic extortion.
All the lantrenes and lovely shape poems we create.
Have ever, any, warned us that loss of our liberty is at stake?
So, given! A strong stance might douse your popularity.
And tarnish your chances forever to the owneer of a trophy be!
But a country under censorship is no way to live.
For our progeny's future, why the fear of a political missive?
2/24/2021
~2~